


The Impossible Exchange

by Nelenus



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Divine Pulse Angst (Fire Emblem), Divine Pulse Deaths (Fire Emblem), Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelenus/pseuds/Nelenus
Summary: He remembered Sothis’ words from five years ago. If turning back time was not enough to save someone’s life, then he had to accept what came to pass as fate.She never said anything about what it meant if saving one person’s life came at the cost of someone else's.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

The battle had barely started, and things already looked bad.

Though the fog had started to clear on its own, that fire volley from the Imperial mages had burned away the rest of it. Now the stench of smoke and burning flesh filled the air. And with the fog cleared, Claude and the Alliance army looked to the south, at the central hill situated on the other side of the river. At the cluster of Imperial soldiers occupying that hill, and controlling the ballista mounted on it. Ballista aside, more Imperial units to the west and south stood ready to swarm any attempt to capture the hill. Meanwhile, to the southeast, the Kingdom army assembled. Their forces lined the hills and woods, ready to surge westward. If all three armies were to move at once, they would clash right there on that central hill.

Claude patted his wyvern on the side of her neck. He could tell from the way she had tensed up that she knew what awaited them on that hill as much as he did. But while he tried to soothe his wyvern, he looked over at Byleth.

“What’s the plan, Teach?” he asked.

Byleth scanned the battlefield with narrowed eyes, the gears already turning in his head. He glanced momentarily in Claude’s direction, acknowledging his question, but quickly turned to Dorothea instead.

“Dorothea.” Byleth pointed southward, to the central hill. “Use your Meteor spells to clear the central hill. I don’t want the enemy sniping our flying units as we approach.”

Dorothea swallowed.

“…Right,” she said. She and her company of mages began to advance toward the bridge, but she stopped before coming to the crossing. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she lifted her hands and conjured the spell’s sigil.

The air itself over the central hill seemed to ignite. Fire rained down from the sky, burning the unfortunate ballista operator alive. Her screams, though faint, carried across the plain. They echoed in the soldiers’ ears for several seconds before going silent. A few people winced. Dorothea covered her mouth and hid her face. Claude bit his lip and readied his bow.

“They’ll have that fire out and someone else on the ballista within a matter of minutes,” he said. “Let’s move and capture that hill before they can recover!”

With that, he nudged his wyvern and took to the air. His own battalion plus the rest of the flying units followed suit. They flew over the river, ignoring the bridge and making a beeline for the central hill. Meanwhile, Byleth and Leonie led the cavalry across the bridge, with the rest of the army following close behind them. No sooner had they made the crossing, however, than they clashed with a company of Imperial soldiers.

Claude, Petra and Hilda made short work of the remaining Imperial soldiers on the hill. But even as they secured the hill, and the tides began to shift in their favor, something still put Claude ill at ease.

As he fought, he constantly risked quick glances to the southeast, to the army flying the Kingdom’s banners. He had, of course, planned for their presence here – among numerous other contingencies – but something still felt wrong. The Imperial mages had targeted both the Kingdom and Alliance armies, and yet the Kingdom army still did not seem interested in joining forces.

Frustrating as it was to accept, the Alliance could not afford to get tangled in a three-way battle, especially with forces that could have been allies. It would be best to avoid the Kingdom army as much as possible, to avoid needless casualties to the Alliance. That was what his constant glancing in that direction was for, Claude told himself. He was monitoring the situation, that was all.

He definitely was not looking for anyone. It had been hard enough fighting former classmates on the Great Bridge of Myrddin; no need to go seeking out familiar faces just to have to cut them down.

Then again, he already knew the face he most wanted to see would not be there. Dimitri was dead; he had been executed years ago. Whoever was leading the Kingdom army now did not know Claude, and was clearly not interested in allying with him.

Out of nowhere, the pangs of guilt and sorrow struck him anew. No matter how much he told himself that there was nothing he could have done, a part of Claude still wondered if he could have saved Dimitri. It was a failure he had never quite forgiven himself for, but not just because of the political repercussions, or lack of military support from the Kingdom as a result.

It was a personal failure. He had allowed someone close to him to die.

“Close” almost wasn’t the right word. Five years ago, back in another life as an academy student, Claude might have gone so far as to admit that he loved Dimitri. But that time was past, and Dimitri was gone.

And there was no time left for regret.

“Claude!”

A black blur surged past him, and it took Claude a second to register it as Petra’s wyvern. She had charged past him, mowing down an enemy soldier that had been about to strike while Claude was distracted. Another quick glance around the area alerted him to the presence of several more soldiers also headed in their direction. Nocking an arrow to Failnaught, Claude climbed high into the air, shooting the enemy down from a position safely above the fray. Seconds later, Petra flew up to join him.

“Claude, what are you doing?” she asked earnestly. “The enemy is trying to surround us. You cannot allow yourself to be distracted!”

“Sorry.” Such an empty word, and Claude couldn’t even bring himself to look at her when he said it. Instead, he merely reached for another arrow and aimed for his next target.

He stole another furtive glance to the southeast.

“Oh no…”

The Kingdom army had begun to charge toward the central hill. Right towards him.

Byleth growled in frustration. Every time he thought he had the situation under control, something else would throw his strategy into disarray. Imperial cavalry closed in from the west at the same time that he heard shouting from back on the other side of the bridge. He looked, and swore under his breath.

Those were Kingdom banners. He had no idea how the Kingdom army had managed to sneak up on his army from behind, but there was no time to worry about that. All they could do was double back and cover the rear guard. He scanned the field for the nearest available commanders.

He saw Felix first. Off in the distance, Seteth seemed to have noticed the enemy and taken the initiative to repel them on his own. However, looking at the size of the enemy force, he was going to need backup.

“Felix! Enemy reinforcements to our rear!” He yelled, pointing.

Felix looked across the bridge, nodding.

“Got it,” he said. He immediately began to head over there. On the way, he ran into Lysithea, whom he waved after him. Together, they went back over the bridge to support Seteth.

The rest of the army kept going. Ignatz ran for the ballista, turning it on the Imperial army. Claude and the fliers cleared the hill. Byleth hung back, reassessing the situation on all fronts. Once he knew everyone had things under control, he would resume pursuing his objective.

“Petra! We need to get out of here!” Claude yelled, pulling another arrow from his quiver. Despite the Kingdom army’s advance, Imperial troops were still dead set on retaking the central hill. He nocked the arrow, quickly taking aim and shooting down another Imperial soldier before having his wyvern climb skyward again.

Petra swept another handful of enemies aside with her axe, then took a quick glance to the east, eyeing the surge of blue headed towards them.

“Claude, the enemy is closing in from both sides!” she called back. “Where would we be going?”

Another half a second to scan the field again, and Claude had to quickly make his decision. He didn’t even shout the command this time; he simply pointed southwest, toward the gap opening up in the Imperial line. Petra noticed, nodded, and urged her wyvern to fly in that direction.

Claude knew he should have followed, but something held him in place. He hesitated. He found his gaze being pulled in the Kingdom army’s direction again.

It was ridiculous. He knew better than to think he had any chance of seeing him again, and yet, Claude found himself scanning the Kingdom’s ranks anyway. Searching, frantically, for a man long dead.

Just as he reached for his next arrow, however, Claude suddenly froze. His heart stopped for a second, and he almost dropped Failnaught.

No. He had to be hallucinating. This was impossible.

 _“Dimitri?!”_ he said.

Emerging from among the Kingdom’s vanguard, and charging ahead at full sprint, was Dimitri. Claude recognized him instantly, despite the… changes. The long, unkempt hair, the eyepatch, the tired, almost despairing countenance – the last five years had not been kind to him. And with such a drastic change in the man’s appearance, Claude almost wanted to believe he was wrong. That this wasn’t the same man. The Dimitri he knew was so kind, polite, polished, even. The man now running towards him, lance raised… Claude shuddered to think of what had happened to change him so much.

He just hoped Dimitri would still listen to him, at least.

Meanwhile, Dimitri drew close enough Claude could hear him shouting orders to the Kingdom troops. Belatedly remembering his hand was still reaching into his quiver, Claude finally pulled out an arrow. He did not nock it yet, however.

Keeping both hands lowered, he swallowed hard, then muttered a command to his wyvern. He flew towards Dimitri.

His battalion of wyvern archers followed him. When he halted, he held up his hand before any of his soldiers could loose a single arrow.

“Hold your fire,” Claude said. “I need to speak with him.”

Claude’s soldiers exchanged confused glances.

“Sir?”

But Claude ignored them. He turned his attention to the man on the ground in front of him – to Dimitri.

Before Claude could so much as open his mouth, Dimitri raised his lance and pointed it at him.

Claude’s heart sank. He hadn’t said anything yet; was Dimitri really so far gone?

“Calm down, Dimitri!” Claude said. “What does it achieve, us killing each other here?”

“Move, Claude,” Dimitri snarled in response. “I have no time to exchange words with you.”

He shifted his feet, taking a fighting stance.

Claude hung his head. It didn’t matter what he said, it seemed. Dimitri simply was not listening. His eyes wandered over to the arrow, still in his right hand. As the thoughts swirled in his head, he squeezed his eyes shut.

He couldn’t kill Dimitri. But he couldn’t flee either. He had no options, yet he had to make a decision anyway. Opening his eyes, Claude shook his head, cursing himself. Reluctantly, he lifted his bow.

Maybe if he tried merely wounding Dimitri instead…

His throat closed as he nocked the arrow to Failnaught. Drawing its string back in preparation to shoot, Claude closely surveyed his target. A wound to the leg surely wouldn’t kill Dimitri, though it would slow him down, hopefully enough to no longer pose a threat on the battlefield. And then, maybe, just _maybe,_ Claude could find him afterward. There would be time to talk after the battle, once Dimitri had calmed down.

Taking one second to aim, Claude then loosed the arrow. It struck Dimitri in the left thigh. And the scream that Dimitri let out made Claude’s blood run cold.

He had never heard such savage fury in Dimitri’s voice before. To make matters worse, Dimitri had barely flinched when hit with the arrow. There was no pain in that scream; it was an enraged battle cry.

Dimitri glared at Claude, his remaining good eye blazing with murderous rage. He drew his lance back, getting ready to throw it.

Claude had no time to react. By the time he realized what Dimitri was doing, it was too late.

Dimitri hurled his lance at Claude, striking him squarely in the chest.

Claude screamed.

Confident that Seteth, Felix, and Lysithea had the situation to the north handled, Byleth turned his attention westward. He and Leonie led the cavalry on a devastating charge through the Imperial army’s flank. It was part of a multi-pronged attack on the Imperial army – Byleth and the cavalry charged their flank, Claude led the fliers to secure the central hill, and the infantry would be coming in shortly to reinforce the area. The Kingdom’s surprise attack from the rear had briefly disrupted the plan, but even that situation was now under control.

The only potential problem now was the Kingdom force to the east. Riding around to the western side of the central hill, Byleth found his view of the eastern half of the field blocked. Though with Claude in command on that side, that shouldn’t be a problem. Byleth trusted Claude’s ability and judgment. He ought to be able to handle any contingencies where the Kingdom army was concerned.

Yet the further Byleth advanced, the more uneasy he felt. He could not shake the feeling that something was wrong, somewhere on the field.

He needed to get around the hill.

Unfortunately, several squads of Imperial soldiers stood between him and the path leading to the south side of the central hill. Byleth urged his horse, charging the enemy head on. He extended the Sword of the Creator, making a long sweep across the enemy’s front line. Half a dozen soldiers cried out in pain as the Sword’s fragmented blade tore through their armor, sending blood flying everywhere. While Byleth pulled the Sword back, a volley of arrows flew over his head, wreaking more havoc on the Imperial line.

“Thank you, Leonie…” Byleth muttered.

Between the Sword of the Creator and the volley from Leonie and her troops, a gap opened up in the enemy ranks. Retracting the Sword, Byleth rode through, cutting the remaining soldiers down in close combat. Pulling his blade from the chest of an Imperial soldier, he quickly glanced up and ahead.

Petra and her wyvern company had their hands full with one of the Imperial army’s controlled Demonic Beasts. But in the fraction of a second it took to assess the situation, it was clear she was having no trouble.

It was what was happening beyond her that was the problem.

The Kingdom army had finally decided to charge, and had already clashed with Alliance forces at the bottom of the hill. Byleth tried to scan the field, scowling in frustration at the difficulty in making anything out from this distance.

Meanwhile, that sense of unease had reached the point of being unbearable. Something was definitely, _terribly_ wrong, he just knew it.

He heard screaming, shouting, the clash of metal on metal. While his soldiers charged ahead, and the battle raged around him, Byleth held still, listening intently. It was nearly a fruitless exercise, amidst all the chaos going on, trying to pick out individual voices from the cacophony.

Among the battle cries and screams of pain, Byleth heard a cry of anguish. The voice sounded both familiar and strange to his ear. After listening for a second, he realized that voice did not belong to Claude, nor anyone else of the former Golden Deer class. Still, he knew this voice somehow.

Feeling sick with dread, Byleth pushed his horse onward, following the sound of the anguished cries. He did not get far. The eastern side of the hill was overrun with Kingdom troops, but that was not what caused Byleth to stop dead in his tracks.

He had finally located the owner of the anguished voice. And he finally knew what had happened – what had gone so horribly wrong.

The voice belonged to Dimitri – Faerghus’ crown prince, whom everyone had thought long dead. Yet there he sat, still screaming, hunched over next to the carcass of a wyvern.

A white wyvern.

Byleth felt himself start to choke.

“Claude…” he gasped.

Despite every fiber of his being telling him not to, Byleth edged closer. He dismounted, leaving his horse with one of his deputy commanders, and approached on foot. Even the commander advised Byleth not to go near the prince – he was dangerous, an enemy – but Byleth walked on, deaf to his pleas.

From this angle, Claude was hidden by Dimitri’s enormous frame and fur cloak, but as Byleth drew closer, he could eventually see what was happening. He saw Claude, with a lance protruding from his chest, lying lifeless in Dimitri’s arms. There was blood everywhere – on Claude’s silks, on Dimitri’s hands and arms, even pooling on the ground beneath them. Dimitri sat, head bowed, shoulders shaking from his constant screaming and crying.

It drove an invisible knife through Byleth’s unbeating heart. His shoulders slumped as if crushed under the weight of what he saw in front of him.

He had lost more than just a student and trusted friend; the army had lost its commander. _The Alliance had lost its leader._ Losing Claude spelled defeat not just for this battle, but almost certainly for the whole cause as well. Without him to hold the Alliance together, everything would fall to pieces.

Yet somehow, that didn’t feel like the worst part. Byleth remained frozen in place, watching Dimitri continue to mourn. In a way, the prince’s sobs gave voice to Byleth’s own grief. At the same time, he also knew his pain was nothing compared to Dimitri’s. He knew what Claude meant to him, or rather, _had_ meant to him, back in their days at the Officers Academy. To see them reunite like this – killing each other on the battlefield – Byleth could not even begin to describe the pain. The guilt. The sorrow.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but that did not stop the tears from beginning to flow.

“Professor…”

Byleth slowly reopened his eyes to find that Dimitri had finally looked up from Claude’s body, and now stared intently at him instead.

“Do something… please…” Dimitri said.

Byleth blinked, shocked for a second. It took him a moment to remember that Dimitri did not know. That nor he nor anyone else were aware of Byleth’s power over time.

To anyone else, Dimitri’s request would have sounded like no more than a man driven mad with grief. Byleth, however, knew what to do. It was the only thing left he _could_ do.

He took a deep breath, turning his focus inward to tap into the divine power. Everyone and everything on the battlefield suddenly froze, time itself coming to a halt. The world went silent, colors turned inside out.

Then, at Byleth’s command, everything started to move backwards.

Fallen soldiers rose to their feet. Arrows returned to their bows, and magic spells returned to their casters’ hands. Yet as the scene continued to run backward, Dimitri remained in place. Not completely motionless – his movements also reversed in time with the rest – but it quickly became apparent he had been sitting there for a while.

Byleth wound time back further, and finally he started to see what happened. It was strange, but no less painful, to watch in reverse.

He saw Dimitri’s desperate attempts to rouse Claude. He noticed that Dimitri had sprinted a considerable distance to reach Claude’s side, after several seconds of staring at his body whilst frozen in shock. More painful than that, however, was the sight of what felled Claude and his wyvern.

Kingdom snipers had shot down the wyvern after Claude fell, but before Dimitri ran to his side. From the look of it, she had tried to attack Dimitri in retaliation for killing her rider. While the snipers’ arrows flew back onto their bows, the lance impaled in Claude’s chest flew back into Dimitri’s hand.

Byleth halted. He looked back and forth between the two – Dimitri poised to throw his lance, and Claude staring wide-eyed in fear, still in mid-recovery after having shot Dimitri in the leg. He obviously could not release the flow of time here; Claude would simply die again without Byleth’s intervention. Yet that was precisely the reason Byleth balked. At this point in time, he would still be on the west side of the hill, fighting his way through Imperial lines. Too far away to be able to intervene.

Keeping time stopped, Byleth surveyed the rest of the battlefield. There had to be a way. Some alternate means of changing the outcome that did not require his direct intervention.

Get Claude away from Dimitri, that much was clear. But how to do that…

To the southwest, Petra had already engaged with the Demonic Beast. That battle had kept her occupied until Byleth showed up – she probably did not even see what happened. Still, she was closer to Byleth than Hilda or Ignatz, both of whom were leading the charge against a Kingdom brigade on the north end of the field. Leonie was part of Byleth’s group, and thus was no more likely to reach Claude’s side in time than Byleth himself. Everyone else was even further away.

Quickly piecing together his plan, Byleth started winding time back again. Everything became a blur for a moment, until Byleth reached the point he needed.

He was back on the western side of the battlefield with Leonie and the rest of the cavalry. This time, however, instead of pushing west, Byleth immediately began heading south.

“Leonie!” he shouted, pointing westward to the company of flying units headed in their direction. “Cover our flanks!”

Leonie nodded and relayed the command to her own troops. While they continued to follow Byleth, they aimed their bows at the Imperial flying corps. A handful of staggered rapid-fire volleys destroyed the enemy units. With the threat to their flank eliminated, Leonie urged her horse to catch up to Byleth.

“What’s going on, Professor?” she asked. “Change of plans? I thought we were headed that way…”

Byleth lashed the Sword of the Creator at a formation of enemy mages, dragging several down and sending the rest into disarray. Leonie shot an arrow through another one. Her and Byleth’s soldiers handled the rest.

Retracting the Sword, Byleth then pointed east.

“The Kingdom army is on the move,” he said. “We need to rendezvous with Claude and consolidate our ranks first.”

Leonie’s eyes followed where Byleth was pointing. Only a fraction of the Kingdom force was visible from there, but a company of soldiers flying a blue banner did emerge from a copse of trees right as Byleth pointed in that direction. He supposed it was to his benefit that the Kingdom army had spread itself so thin; had they concentrated their forces, they might not be visible until he got the rest of the way around the central hill.

Not that he was concerned about coming up with plausible explanations at the moment. Claude’s life was at stake. He could not afford to fail here.

Byleth pressed his spurs into the horse’s side, urging her to a gallop. Extending the Sword again, he charged at the Demonic Beast blocking the path. However, its attention was already focused elsewhere.

“Petra!” Byleth yelled. He lashed the Sword, whipping the Beast’s flank, and digging the blade’s tip into its side.

Petra, meanwhile, had already started charging the Beast herself, attempting to bury her axe into its armored head. When that failed, she flew back around, ready to charge again. Her eyes darted around the creature’s massive body, searching for a weak point. Upon hearing her name, however, she halted.

The Demonic Beast turned, locating the new enemy that had attacked it from behind. Petra’s gaze went in the same direction, making eye contact with Byleth only a second later.

“Find Claude!” He gestured frantically behind her, at the rapidly approaching Kingdom army. “Get him out of there!”

Petra turned her head, scanning the area near the hill. Ordering her wyvern company after her, she then doubled back in search of Claude.

Claude had almost dropped Failnaught in his shock.

Dimitri was alive. Impossible as it seemed, he had somehow survived his execution, and was now leading the Kingdom army. Unfortunately, that army had turned its blades on the Alliance.

Something was wrong. The Dimitri that Claude knew would never do this. Even if they had initially mistaken them for the Imperial army, they should have realized such a mistake by now. Dimitri should have sent up a flag of truce, called for parley, been apologizing profusely, _something._ Not only did he do none of those things, he stood with his lance pointed at Claude. Dimitri’s only remaining eye narrowed, glaring at Claude like he was as much an enemy to him as the Imperial army.

Claude swallowed, keeping his hands lowered as he approached so as not to look like a threat. He had to at least try reasoning with Dimitri first.

Right as he opened his mouth to speak, he heard someone calling his name.

“What now…?” Claude muttered, glancing behind him. “Petra?”

Sure enough, that was Petra, already heading back his way after he had just sent her to deal with the Imperial enemies to the southwest.

“Claude!” Petra called again, flying closer. “The professor is calling for you! He is saying you need to get out of there!”

Claude looked back at the Kingdom army. Of course, pulling back was the strategically sound thing to do. And Byleth did have this uncanny knack for predicting enemy movements, making calls that sometimes made it seem like he was reading the enemy’s mind. Maybe he was seeing something Claude himself had missed.

But Dimitri…

Lowering his head, Claude reluctantly turned his wyvern around. Much as it pained him, he had to leave Dimitri again. He didn’t know what Byleth was seeing, but an inexplicable sense of urgency crept up Claude’s spine, invading his brain. It made him dig his heels into his wyvern’s side, the spurs on his riding boots transferring the same sense of urgency to her. She spread her wings wide and climbed skyward at alarming speed. Claude guided her southward, rejoining Byleth and Petra.

He risked one glance behind him.

“Dimitri…” he muttered, just under his breath so Petra would not hear. “I’ll come back…”

Chances were slim, Claude knew. But he had to hold on to the hope that he would find Dimitri afterward. All they had to do was both survive the battle.

For now, he had to focus on the more immediate problem, which was the Imperial army. Since Byleth seemed to have no interest in engaging with the Kingdom army – which, admittedly, was for the best, if they were to avoid casualties on both sides – the only other direction to go was west. Where Edelgard herself waited for them.

Just as Claude landed his wyvern by Byleth, Leonie fired a fatal shot into the roof of the Demonic Beast’s mouth. It let out a horrific screech and collapsed, the force of its body hitting the ground causing the earth to shake a little bit. While Claude allowed his wyvern a moment to rest her wings, the others regrouped around him and Byleth.

Claude looked questioningly at Byleth, silently asking about their next move. Strangely, Byleth did not respond right away. He stared back at Claude, with a look akin to that of relief on his face.

It was Leonie then that broke the uncomfortable silence.

“What do we do now?” she asked. “Edelgard’s right over there, but we’ve also got the Kingdom army chasing after us…”

Byleth glanced over at the Kingdom army. They had split into two forces: the larger force headed north, towards the rest of the Alliance army, and a smaller force still headed towards Byleth’s group.

Claude followed Byleth’s gaze. Dimitri was leading the smaller group.

“Teach…” Claude began.

“Claude, you stay with me,” Byleth said, not taking his eyes off the Kingdom troops. “Leonie. Petra. Clear a path to Edelgard. We’ll be there shortly.”

With that, Byleth took off again.

He rode back towards the Kingdom army.

Claude frowned, confused. Not two minutes ago, he had been ordered to pull out of this area. Whatever Byleth had planned this time, not even Claude could guess. Despite his doubts, he followed him anyway.

Before Claude could ask, Byleth pointed him toward his target. Dimitri’s vassal, Dedue.

“You handle him,” Byleth said. “I will handle Dimitri.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Claude saw Byleth extend the Sword of the Creator, riding straight for Dimitri. As Byleth disappeared from his peripheral view, Claude nocked his arrow to Failnaught, pushing his wyvern skyward.

He felt sick. Even though he wanted to trust that Byleth would not kill Dimitri, Claude could not shake the anxiety and doubt that teased at the back of his mind. Nor did he want to kill Dedue. He had not had much chance to talk with him at the academy, but Claude knew he was a good man. He would have made a valuable ally.

Sighing in resignation, Claude halted his wyvern in the air. He drew his bowstring back and took aim.

On the ground, Dedue had noticed Claude aiming at him, and raised his shield overhead to block the shot. Claude’s arrow deflected off the shield. Claude flew back around, trying a different angle.

Unfortunately, the longer Claude took, the more dangerous his position grew. Kingdom snipers approached from the trees behind Dedue. Some were already close enough that they started taking aim at Claude.

“Damn it,” he said. “I’m sorry, Dedue…”

He knew his shots kept failing because he kept hesitating. Dedue no doubt realized this, which was why he was having no trouble blocking every arrow. But as an enemy arrow zipped past his ear, Claude knew he was out of time. This next shot _had_ to hit.

Claude’s wyvern climbed high in the air above the Kingdom soldiers’ heads. Taking aim, Claude then flew straight toward his target. As expected, Dedue raised his shield again. Behind him, the snipers took aim. Just before they fired, Claude suddenly veered to the right, causing all their shots to fly harmlessly off into the distance.

And Dedue had not yet had the time to react and adjust his position. Claude had his opening. He loosed his arrow, piercing Dedue in the side, through a gap in his armor. Dedue cried out and dropped to his knees, while Claude wasted no time in flying far out of the rest of the enemy’s reach.

Not wanting to look back at what he had just done, he instead focused on looking for Byleth. Thankfully, he was close by. In fact, Byleth seemed to be looking for him.

“We’ve halted their advance,” Byleth began. “Now, we need to -”

“Teach,” Claude interrupted. “Where’s Dimitri?”

“He’s still alive,” Byleth reassured him. “He had to fall back after I wounded him.”

Claude nearly let out a sigh of relief, quickly disguising it as a cough. Due to all the smoke still in the air, of course.

“Right,” he said. His worst fear finally allayed, he looked west. “Now, about Edelgard…”

Byleth nodded. The two of them immediately began to head in that direction.

At last, Edelgard was the only remaining threat on the battlefield. Byleth had made sure to only wound Dimitri, and it seemed Claude had managed to do the same to Dedue. Though Claude probably did not see it, some Kingdom clerics had rushed in, treating both their prince and his vassal for their injuries. As long as they defeated Edelgard quickly, they still had a chance to meet and parley with Dimitri’s forces. There was still a chance for reconciliation.

“You and Petra distract her,” Byleth said to Claude as they got closer to the small hill where Edelgard had positioned herself.

Claude nodded, waving Petra after him. The two of them approached Edelgard’s right flank, while Byleth charged her head on. The hill she stood on boasted some small fortifications, and she seemed well dug in. She was not going to make this easy.

As planned, Claude and Petra kept Edelgard’s troops occupied by attacking in waves. Claude’s wyvern archers would swoop in and fire a volley, and then Petra’s wyvern riders swept aside the rest with their axes. Once her force was sufficiently weakened, it was time to take the fight to Edelgard herself.

She blocked Claude’s arrows with her shield, dodged the head of Petra’s axe. Even Byleth had difficulty landing any strikes with his sword. For when Edelgard’s own shield and armor were not enough, she used the fortifications to her advantage.

After a few minutes, the three of them regrouped. They tried again with a new strategy.

Claude shot multiple arrows in quick succession, not caring much for aim. It served merely as a distraction while Petra flew in from the other side, forcing Edelgard into a corner. Then Byleth approached, Sword extended, ready to deliver the final strike.

Feeling his Crest imbue his sword with added strength, Byleth made a decisive swipe at Edelgard’s chest. His Crest’s energy traveled along the length of the blade, sapping energy out of Edelgard’s wounds, transferring it to Byleth. She screamed in pain, but miraculously kept on her feet.

“Nngh… I lost?” she gasped, having dropped her shield, now clutching her wound. She began to walk backwards, probably looking to retreat before her situation got worse.

The last remnants of her army attempted to rally to her. Claude, Petra, Byleth and Leonie all tore mercilessly through their ranks, but by the time it was over, Edelgard had disappeared.

Claude landed his wyvern and dismounted. Putting Failnaught away in the saddlebag, he looked around the battlefield, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Edelgard retreated,” he said. “I suppose she lives to be defeated another day.”

Taking a few steps away from the wyvern, he continued to survey the field.

Although the Alliance were the clear victors, the fighting had not stopped everywhere yet. Small skirmishes still broke out in remote areas of the field. Remnants of the Imperial and Kingdom armies ran in various directions, some fleeing, some pursuing. Meanwhile, Claude wandered aimlessly around the southwest corner of the battlefield, still looking agitated despite their victory.

“The battlefield looks awful,” he said. He looked east, beyond the central hill. Where he and Byleth had fought Dimitri and Dedue.

Most of the Kingdom army had disappeared. Retreated, probably. Yet their absence only made Claude more agitated.

“What became of the Kingdom army?” he asked. Then, in lower tones that were almost inaudible, “And Dimitri…?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Hilda appeared, approaching on foot from the southeast.

“I saw him,” she said.

That immediately got both Byleth and Claude’s attention.

But as soon as Byleth saw the look on Hilda’s face, his heart plummeted into his stomach. He knew what she was going to say even before she said it.

“He took off in pursuit of the Imperial army,” she said, her voice starting to crack. She looked down, hiding her tears. “He was surrounded… and pierced by their spears…”

Byleth closed his eyes. Though he did not show it, something in him shattered.

No. Not like this. He did not save Claude just for them to lose Dimitri. Again.

He remembered Sothis’ words from five years ago. If turning back time was not enough to save someone’s life, then he had to accept what came to pass as fate. She never said anything about what it meant if saving one person’s life came at the cost of someone else’s.

Byleth’s hands balled into fists. He had nothing to go on, but that also meant there was nothing to stop him.

He opened his eyes. Everyone around him froze. Whatever else Hilda had to say never left her lips.

For Byleth had stopped time again.


	2. Chapter 2

Time sped backward again. Byleth paid little attention, turning all the reversed movements into a blur, speeding toward the point he knew he needed to see. As he got close to it, though, he slowed down.

Dimitri had no doubt run off in pursuit of Edelgard within minutes of Byleth and Claude turning their backs on him. All Byleth needed was the exact moment he ran.

He watched himself and Claude move backwards, away from Edelgard and back to where they had left Dimitri and Dedue. But he quickly moved his attention further out. He eyed the Kingdom forces, scattered across the eastern field. Dimitri had to be among them somewhere. If not still where Byleth had left him, then he could not have gone too far, with his legs wounded as they were from a few lashes of the Sword of the Creator.

Byleth inwardly winced. The intent had been to slow Dimitri down and ensure he posed no threat. Unfortunately, he now wondered if those wounds could have been a factor when Dimitri fell to those Imperial soldiers. His own negligence had already killed Claude; this time it seemed he was responsible for Dimitri’s death.

He scanned the field over and over, moving from within the clusters of Kingdom soldiers and stretching out to the open area south of the central hill. If Dimitri had already broken off from his own forces, then he would have started running south, in pursuit of the Imperial army. So Byleth focused his gaze in that direction.

Time continued to wind backward, but slowly. Even those moving at sprinting speeds had been reduced to a snail’s pace.

At last, he found him.

It turned out Byleth and Claude had not gotten far at all before Dimitri broke off from the Kingdom forces. But Byleth spotted him, partially hidden by a cluster of trees near the edge of the field. Further out, beyond Byleth and Claude’s reach, he saw a group of Imperial soldiers. Most likely the same ones that had killed Dimitri. Byleth had already turned time beyond that point, but it was not hard to imagine what had transpired (or, rather, was about to transpire, once he released the flow of time again). A cursory glance alone indicated Dimitri would be outnumbered at least ten to one. And judging by his gait, he had not waited for the healers to properly treat those wounds on his legs either.

No, this was not far enough. Byleth kept moving time back, eyes darting back and forth between himself and Claude, and Dimitri. All the while he tried to formulate a plan. Some way to prevent Dimitri from running off while the Alliance drove the remnants of the Imperial army off the battlefield.

Perhaps if he stayed here, and allowed Claude to handle Edelgard…

Byleth balked at the idea, as the thought of returning with Dimitri in tow only to find that Edelgard had killed Claude suddenly invaded his mind. It seemed unlikely at best, but given what had already happened in this battle, he was not about to take chances. Edelgard could wait until he was certain both Dimitri and Claude were safe. Though it would be preferable to defeat her here, he had to acknowledge the possibility that that would not happen. Even if Edelgard retreated, it would be better to face her again later than battle her here and lose Claude again.

Byleth halted, not releasing time just yet. He surveyed the field; he and Claude had just turned to go join their allies. Dimitri, meanwhile, was already fighting to break free of the healers trying to tend to his wounds. Byleth looked along the path he had seen Dimitri take, gauging how quickly he could get himself and Claude over there to intervene.

Two possibilities occurred to him. If he released time here, he would most likely have to bring Claude and intercept Dimitri after he had already broken off and begun his pursuit. That, combined with them potentially being caught between Kingdom and Imperial forces, would not end well.

If he went back another minute or so, however, then perhaps he and Claude could advance and force the Kingdom army’s surrender before Dimitri went anywhere. Though he had no means of predicting Dimitri’s reaction, that still seemed to be the safer of the two possible plans.

Another minute it was, then.

Everyone moved backward just a little bit more. Then Byleth released his hold, and time began to flow normally again.

He found himself back on his horse, retracting the Sword of the Creator after watching Dimitri fall back due to his wounds. The prince hobbled backwards, both legs torn and bloodied from a carefully aimed lash of Byleth’s sword. He screamed incoherently, dragging his lance on the ground behind him as he reluctantly retreated.

Right on cue, Claude came flying up to Byleth’s side. With a single, precisely aimed shot at Dedue’s side, Claude had left Dimitri’s vassal too wounded to keep fighting as well. Dedue fell back while the Kingdom snipers stood by to cover his retreat.

While Claude halted his wyvern, Byleth turned his horse, facing him directly.

“We’ve halted their advance,” he said. “Now we need to -”

“Teach.” There was an intensity in Claude’s eyes Byleth had rarely seen before. “Where’s Dimitri?”

“He’s still alive,” Byleth said. He pointed in the direction Dimitri had gone. “He fell back after I wounded him, but this isn’t over yet.”

They needed to move. Their time window was narrow, but it could be done.

Claude’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

Byleth looked down, a muscle twitching in his cheek. There was no _time_ for explanation.

“We’ve nearly driven the Imperial army off the field,” he said. “But we have to fully neutralize the Kingdom army before we engage Edelgard’s forces.”

He looked back at Claude, and his face fell. That furrowed brow meant Claude was still not convinced.

Byleth heaved a sigh. “We just need to force their surrender.”

At that, Claude relaxed. Glancing back at the Kingdom army’s lines, however, he tensed up again.

Beyond the Kingdom’s forces, however, the Alliance army had started to push down from the north. The group that had handled the Kingdom’s ambush to their rear had since rejoined the vanguard, and now pushed relentlessly on the Kingdom army’s flank. Given time, they would drive the Kingdom army off the field completely – but Byleth knew he didn’t have that kind of time. He and Claude needed to get back in there and help.

But at the same time, they needed to get to Dimitri.

“Let’s go,” Byleth said, waving Claude after him.

Claude pulled an arrow from his quiver, watching with furrowed brow as Byleth pursued the retreating Kingdom forces. Had the Kingdom’s forces not been neutralized already? They had wounded Dimitri and forced him to retreat, and the rest of his troops seemed to be falling back as well. They _should_ be focusing on Edelgard right now.

Then again, Claude could not ignore that aching feeling that had been dogging him ever since he saw Dimitri on the battlefield. It tore at his heart to see how Dimitri had changed in the last five years. It was as if he didn’t recognize anyone, not even Claude.

The two of them had not had the chance to speak directly – for whatever reason, Byleth had been intent on not letting him anywhere near Dimitri – but it was still obvious in Dimitri’s behavior. He still insisted on attacking Alliance forces, even long after he should have recognized them.

By this point, however, the Kingdom forces were all but defeated. As Byleth said, if they kept pushing, they could force a full surrender rather than simply drive them off the field.

Claude’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe this was his chance to try to talk to Dimitri.

Of course, there was still Edelgard to worry about, but the Alliance army had considerably thinned the Imperial army’s numbers as well. It seemed unlikely she would attempt a counteroffensive at this point in the battle. And if she did, Claude had the support of Petra’s wyvern company and Leonie’s cavalry.

Claude took a fraction of a second to assess the field. Byleth had already clashed with the Kingdom’s vanguard while they tried to cover Dimitri’s retreat. Meanwhile, Dedue retreated behind the company of snipers, all of whom waited with arrows nocked, prepared to shoot down anyone who attempted to break through.

It was risky, but Claude had a plan.

Nocking an arrow to his own bow, he turned briefly to address his troops.

“Hit and run tactics,” he said. “And don’t let them shoot first.”

He then took off, flying straight toward the Kingdom snipers. They aimed at Claude, but he loosed his arrow and then veered hard to the left a split second before Kingdom arrows filled the air. Claude’s corps of wyvern archers followed his lead, though they approached from multiple angles to avoid the incoming rain of arrows. By the time the last arrow had flown its course, the Kingdom snipers had been decimated.

Claude looped around, readying another arrow. He sped toward the enemy snipers, already taking aim.

“Again!” he commanded.

Another devastating rain of arrows, and this time the enemy snipers began to scatter and fall back. Claude continued to press them.

Seeing the Alliance army closing in from both sides, the Kingdom forces began to break. Some laid down their weapons in surrender. Others simply turned and fled.

With that threat eliminated, Claude flew past the vanquished Kingdom soldiers. Byleth had pushed through as well, catching up to the cluster of healers and soldiers gathered near the bottom of the central hill. Unable to clearly see what was happening from this distance, Claude urged his wyvern, making a beeline for Byleth and that group of Kingdom forces.

Maybe – hopefully – Dimitri was among them.

As he came close enough, Claude thought he saw Dimitri’s giant blue cloak. But before he could get a proper look, the group exploded suddenly with a flurry of movement. Byleth’s horse let out a whinny and reared, nearly throwing him. Several of the healers cried out in surprise and fled in various directions.

Half a second later, Claude saw why.

That mass of blue was, in fact, Dimitri. And he had suddenly jumped up, yelling incoherently and brandishing his lance dangerously close to his allies. When they began to scatter, Dimitri seized his chance and ran.

Or, tried to.

He was limping. Probably due to his wounds from earlier.

Claude winced at the sight. Still, he flew lower and eventually landed, then hopped out of the saddle. This was his chance.

“Dimitri!” he called.

Dimitri’s hurried and awkward movements came to an abrupt halt. He turned his head to look in Claude’s direction. His single remaining eye narrowed, but he wavered too much on his feet and held his lance too low to the ground.

“Move, Claude,” Dimitri growled. “I have no time to exchange words with you.”

“ _NO!”_

Claude had not moved a muscle. Hearing Byleth cry out had caught him off guard. And before he recovered from that, he froze up at the sight of a familiar glowing red whip-blade flying in from out of nowhere.

The Sword of the Creator wrapped itself around Dimitri’s legs. Claude turned to look, seeing Byleth riding toward them. As Byleth turned his horse, heading in Claude’s direction, he yanked back on the Sword, pulling Dimitri off his feet. Dimitri screamed, trying to plant his lance in the ground to steady himself.

It didn’t quite work. He dug his lance’s tip into the ground, but he had already been pulled to the ground himself. Still screaming, he seized Byleth’s whip-sword with his free hand and tried to untangle himself from it.

Claude took half a step forward.

Byleth rode up beside Claude and raised his hand, signaling him to stop.

Meanwhile, Dimitri freed himself from the Sword’s grip, violently throwing it aside as if it were a dead snake. Byleth snapped the weapon back, and it retracted into its sword shape.

“Stand down, Dimitri!” Byleth said. “There is no need for further bloodshed here today.”

Dimitri pulled his lance out of the ground and rolled onto his feet. His eye darted back and forth between Claude and Byleth while he held his lance at the ready. Eventually he settled on Byleth.

“Get out of my way or I’ll kill you!” he spat.

He tried to shift into a fighting stance, but he had become so unsteady on his feet that his knees threatened to buckle with the effort. Blood flowed freely out of multiple lacerations across his legs, suggesting a dangerous amount of blood loss. He was likely to pass out if he left those wounds untreated.

That aching feeling in Claude’s chest turned into a sharp pang. He could not lose Dimitri again.

“Dimitri, please,” he said.

His words fell on deaf ears. Dimitri’s eye was still fixed on Byleth, though Claude thought he saw tiny flickers of movement, as if Dimitri kept stealing glances at something beyond them. Whatever it was, Byleth stood directly in his path to it. But neither he nor Claude were going to budge.

Out of the corner of his eye, Claude saw Byleth take a step forward.

“Dimitri, if you surrender now, I promise you--”

Byleth’s words got cut off by Dimitri’s piercing battle cry. Somehow mustering the strength, Dimitri bounded forward, lance aimed at Byleth’s chest. Claude rushed in to try to shove Dimitri aside. He successfully knocked him off his feet, and Dimitri collapsed in the grass. But Claude’s reaction had come a fraction of a second too late.

Immediately after the heavy thud of Dimitri falling to the ground, there was another, lighter thud. Claude glanced to his left to find the Sword of the Creator lying at Byleth’s feet. Meanwhile, both of Byleth’s hands gripped the haft of Dimitri’s lance, now impaled in his chest. His eyes were wide with agony.

“Teach!” Claude cried, dropping Failnaught.

While Claude supported Byleth, Dimitri scrambled to his feet. He did not attempt to charge them again, however.

Rather, he suddenly looked distraught. As if only just realizing what he had done.

Claude turned his head, and he and Dimitri met gazes.

And then they froze.

Byleth’s entire body felt like it had turned to stone. He was vaguely aware that he was still standing, but somehow unable to move. The world around him had gone pitch black, and the silence was deafening.

Was he dead?

The last thing he remembered was overwhelming agony as Dimitri’s lance pierced his heart. The heart itself was already dead, Byleth knew; the prince’s glowing red blade had shattered something else.

And yet, instead of slowly fading away into oblivion, Byleth’s awareness grew sharper. He really was still standing. And despite being run through with a Heroes’ Relic, he was in no pain. He couldn’t even feel the lance in his chest anymore.

Byleth opened his eyes.

The lance was gone. Dimitri, Claude, even the battlefield itself… had all vanished.

It was dark, save for a dim, eerie green light illuminating the stone dais in front of him. At the center of the dais stood a familiar, but empty, throne.

“What…?”

He knew this place, and not just from his talks with Sothis (before she had granted him her power and vanished, anyway). At the time, he had been shocked to learn that the throne of his visions had a real-world counterpart in the Holy Tomb. It made sense in retrospect, but this was hardly the time to care about that. For the first time in over five years, he could see the throne again, and it stood just as lonely and empty as he remembered.

And the silence mocked him.

Sothis was not here to berate him for his mistake. Byleth wished she was. She should be up there, comfortably leaning on the left armrest, glaring down at him for his latest, fatal blunder. Scolding him, calling him a fool, maybe even reminding him of a similar incident from years ago. How similar it was to his current situation. Byleth winced at the irony. He really didn’t learn, did he.

Still, Sothis’ worst insults would be preferable to this. A lonely and silent eternity in front of an empty throne.

Byleth wrung his hands and sank to his knees.

This was impossible. Dimitri’s life for Claude’s. And now Byleth’s own life for Dimitri’s. Was there truly no way to save all of them?

“ _If turning back the hands of time was not enough to save his life, then you must accept what came to pass… was fate…”_

But it _had_ worked. Byleth _had_ saved Claude’s life. And Dimitri’s. He just couldn’t save everyone at the same time. It was as if saving one life required losing another in exchange.

Byleth stood up. He clenched his fists and lifted his head to glare at the throne.

“Well?!” His voice echoed against the walls hidden in the darkness. “Is this your way of telling me this is ‘fate’? That there is nothing I can do to save them?”

Normally, he only raised his voice on the battlefield, when it was necessary for his commands to be heard. Never in his life did he recall raising his voice in anger before. Not when his students had tried his patience, not when he had faced down his most hated enemies. He simply was not one for shouting. 

Hovering on the brink of death – with the power of Divine Pulse being the only thing keeping him from dying – seemed as good a time as any to change that.

“Tell me, Sothis!” Louder now, and quavering with desperation. “Can I save them or not?!”

No response. Not that Byleth had really been expecting one; after being granted her power, he had not heard her voice since.

Of course, this did not mean she was gone; she had merely merged her spirit with Byleth’s. She was also the only other one who could control Divine Pulse, and it certainly was not Byleth who had stopped time here.

But it made no sense. If Sothis had stopped time for him, Byleth could not figure out why. There was no point, aside from possibly a selfish desire to keep her vessel alive. For if he died, she would die with him.

Byleth suddenly wondered if that was such a bad thing. Fódlan had been managing without its goddess since long before he was born, and would doubtless continue on long after he was gone. His existence was not what was holding Fódlan together spiritually, no matter what Rhea or Claude said. Putting it that way, he suddenly became expendable.

The problem was that he was also selfish. He did not want to die either.

He knew it was self-deprecating. Probably a little blasphemous, too. However, given the current situation, Byleth could hardly bring himself to care.

They could not afford to lose Claude, that much was certain. But if this so-called ‘fate’ really did require one of their lives in exchange for the others, then the choice came down to Byleth’s own life, or Dimitri’s. The vessel of a dead goddess, or the prince of a fallen kingdom, back from the dead himself.

He had not given it more than a few seconds’ thought when a fresh realization made his anger surge anew.

There was no choice. If he allowed himself to die, Sothis would just stop him again.

He fixed his gaze on the throne. When he spoke, it was not with the angry shouting from before. Rather, he reverted to an old habit, one from his days before meeting Sothis, when he was the Ashen Demon.

“Fine.” His eyes turned dull, almost lifeless in appearance. His voice fell into a low monotone. “I know what your answer is. Here is mine.”

The dais and throne vanished.

In its place, Gronder Field returned.

Dimitri fought to untangle himself from the Sword of the Creator. When he finally freed himself, tossing the weapon aside, Byleth snapped the sword back. And then immediately extended it again.

“Teach! What are you doing?!” Claude cried out in protest as the Sword’s whip form wrapped itself around Dimitri again, this time around his torso.

Byleth ignored him, instead pulling Dimitri down to the ground a second time. With the Sword wrapped so tightly around his body, his arms – and by extension, his lance – were trapped. All they had to worry about was whether the prince’s superhuman Blaiddyd strength would allow him to free himself and retaliate before Byleth could get close enough to act.

And Dimitri’s violent struggling made that look like a distinct possibility.

Riding closer, Byleth kept pulling back on the Sword, maintaining as tight a grip around Dimitri as he could manage. Claude edged closer to the prince as well, casting worried looks back and forth between him and Byleth. Though he had since dismounted his wyvern, he kept Failnaught handy. 

Another savage scream tore out of Dimitri’s mouth. He jerked his left shoulder back with such force that he pulled Byleth after him. Byleth could do little more than yelp in surprise as Dimitri’s strength pulled him right out of the saddle. Still, he clung fiercely to the Sword’s grip, preferring to land face first in the dirt rather than let go and risk freeing Dimitri.

“Dimitri, stop!” Claude called out from somewhere nearby. “We’re not your enemies!”

Upon hitting his head on the ground, Byleth lost his grip on the Sword anyway. His head swam, making the ground appear to spin while the Sword snaked through the grass, out of his reach. He struggled in vain to get up, already feeling his consciousness slipping.

_No… I’ve failed again…_

He heard Dimitri grunting in pain, followed by a thud. Then he passed out.

Claude winced when Byleth fell out of the saddle, landing head first on the ground. He nearly panicked when Byleth did not move for the first two seconds afterward. However, even when Byleth did begin to move and groan in pain, Claude was alerted to a different problem.

That landing had wrenched the Sword of the Creator out of Byleth’s grip, and Claude watched as it inched away from him and Byleth, going toward Dimitri instead.

And Dimitri had almost finished freeing himself. Claude had to act fast.

Still, he tried one last time to speak to him.

“Dimitri, stop!” he said. “We’re not your enemies!”

With a last, angry growl, Dimitri shrugged off the Sword. He readied his lance again, not paying any attention to Claude’s words.

“Fine,” Claude muttered under his breath. “Dimitri, I didn’t want to do this…”

He sprinted forward, closing the gap between himself and Dimitri before the latter could react. Claude raised Failnaught, but with no arrow nocked. Instead, he struck Dimitri over the head with the side of the weapon. Dimitri grunted in pain, then collapsed.

Though Dimitri did not get back up, Claude still waited, frozen in place with Failnaught raised just to be sure. Several seconds passed, and Dimitri remained motionless except for his breathing. Claude finally allowed himself to relax.

Beyond them, Claude’s troops had rejoined the rest of the Alliance army. They had formed a pincer, and would have crushed the remaining Kingdom forces had the Kingdom commanders not surrendered. On this side of the battlefield, the fighting began to slow to a halt as more and more of the Kingdom army surrendered to the Alliance. Claude waited there a few seconds longer, watching the scene unfold. He let out a sigh of relief. Byleth’s plan had worked.

More importantly, Dimitri was safe. Now all they had to do was get him off the battlefield, get his wounds treated, and finally _talk_ to him.

Claude whistled, calling his wyvern over. While she approached, he slung Failnaught over his back and knelt next to Dimitri. He slowly and gently pried the lance from Dimitri’s grip, as if trying not to wake him. As he stood up, lance in hand, the wyvern came up beside him, nudging Claude’s free hand with her snout. He patted her on the neck.

He could carry Dimitri on the back of his wyvern, but he would need help getting him up there. Perhaps Byleth--

“Teach?”

Byleth had not moved nor made any sound since hitting his head after falling from his horse. Claude ran over to check; thankfully, his professor did not appear to be seriously injured. He was still alive, just unconscious. Unfortunately, this presented another problem.

After taking a moment to think on it, Claude set Dimitri’s lance down next to Byleth, then walked back over to Dimitri. His wyvern followed him, tilting her head quizzically. Claude halted her, took Failnaught off his back and put it away in the saddlebag. He then pointed down to where Dimitri lay.

“Help me carry him,” Claude said. “You’re taking two passengers this time. I know it’ll be heavy, but…”

The wyvern quickly obeyed. She folded her wings and bent her knees, lowering her body as close to the ground as she could. Claude, meanwhile, struggled to move Dimitri. Realizing that trying to lift him gently would not work, Claude simply grabbed him under the arms and dragged him along. It was agonizingly slow.

He eventually resorted to hauling the unconscious Dimitri over his shoulder in order to get him onto his wyvern’s back. Seating Dimitri on the saddle first, Claude then held him upright with one arm, fumbled for the reins with the other.

Once he did get the reins in hand, however, Claude hesitated. He looked down at where Byleth lay, seeing him still out cold like Dimitri was. Byleth’s horse waited nearby, but Claude wondered if its rider would be in any shape to ride anywhere on his own when he woke up. On the other hand, he could not afford to wait around to find out. He let out a resigned sigh, then gave his wyvern the command. Soon they were airborne.

He decided to risk climbing high enough for a view of the entire battlefield. Just because the Kingdom army had surrendered didn’t mean the battle was over; he needed to know what the Imperial army was doing as well.

A mass of red and black moved south and west. The army’s movements remained tight and organized; they were in retreat, not total rout. Edelgard must have sensed imminent defeat and decided to cut her losses. Smart.

To the east and north, the Kingdom had now completely surrendered. Yet the forces below were in constant motion – the Alliance army reorganizing itself, healers seeking out and tending to the wounded, battered troops retreating from the field. Claude narrowed his eyes, focusing on the ranks of the Alliance healers. He flew lower and back in the direction of his troops.

Claude’s wyvern had scarcely begun her descent when Claude heard a weak groaning noise from Dimitri. Claude’s heart plunged into his stomach, and not from the sudden drop in altitude.

“Hold on…” he muttered. He leaned forward, simultaneously wrapping his arm tighter around Dimitri and pushing his wyvern to go faster.

They beelined toward the ground at frightening speed. Claude and the wyvern both knew exactly when to slow down and stop, however, and in a matter of seconds they lightly touched down in front of their allies.

Their rapid entrance forced everyone to clear a space wide enough for the wyvern to land. Some, including Marianne and Ignatz, leaped out of the way with a yelp of surprise. When they recovered, they stared at Claude in bewilderment.

Dimitri groaned again. A few of the Alliance soldiers gasped, taking a step back. Whispers began to ripple through the ranks, but Claude paid it no heed.

“He’s wounded and needs immediate treatment!” he said, releasing the reins and easing his feet out of the stirrups. “Ignatz, help me get him down. Marianne, I need your healing magic.”

“…Alright.” Ignatz’s eyes were still wide in disbelief, but he did as Claude asked. Soon the two of them had Dimitri lying flat on his back in the grass. While Ignatz stepped aside to let Marianne do her work, Claude did not move. He sat on Dimitri’s right side, opposite Marianne.

Marianne’s hands glowed with the warm light of a healing spell as she held them over Dimitri’s wounds.

“I can’t believe he survived…” she said. “What happened, Claude?”

Claude looked puzzled for a second.

“He must have been hiding in exile for the past five years,” he said. Quietly, to himself, he added, “But that doesn’t explain why he attacked us…”

_Dimitri, what happened to you…_

There was a long pause while he stared down at Dimitri’s face. Dimitri’s eyes were still closed; he was not quite awake yet despite his groaning. However, as Marianne’s healing spell took effect, Dimitri’s legs began to twitch. Probably a side effect from the magic repairing the flesh, but every movement he made threatened to wake him.

Claude would have to keep close watch. If Dimitri did wake up before they returned to camp, they could not afford for him to fly into another rage.

Then again, perhaps Marianne or the other healers had some medicines or even magic that would keep Dimitri sedated long enough for them to give proper treatment. If not, Claude had a few soporifics of his own hidden in that saddlebag somewhere. He just hoped he would not need them.

While Claude kept his eyes fixed on Dimitri, Marianne’s drifted to look out across the battlefield.

“Claude?” she said. “Where is the professor?”

“He’s fine,” Claude replied, a little too quickly. “He should be here any minute now…”

“Nngh… Come on…”

Byleth awoke to the feeling of someone pulling on his arms, and the sounds of Leonie grunting. He blinked a few times, needing a couple of seconds to find his bearings.

Those were Leonie’s hands holding him by the arms. She had pulled him up into a seated position, and now seemed to be struggling to get him up on his feet. Having just woke up, his head still hung low, limiting his view to the ground in front of him.

Patches of grass, stained with blood. And just within his peripheral view, he saw the blade of a lance – but not a regular lance.

A Heroes’ Relic.

Byleth gasped. His memory flooding back to him, he panicked and jumped to his feet.

“No! Claude!” he yelled.

His sudden, frantic movements startled Leonie, causing her to let go of him and leap backwards herself. Byleth took no notice of her. He had a far more pressing problem.

Half a dozen paces beyond the lance lay the Sword of the Creator, still in its whip form. Dimitri’s blood still coated its bonelike parts. But Dimitri himself was nowhere to be seen. Claude had also vanished. Byleth’s mind raced. He tried to figure out what happened.

Dimitri must have freed himself after Byleth had lost his grip on the Sword when he hit his head. He thought he remembered Claude yelling something just before passing out, but everything was still hazy. He could not remember Claude’s exact words. And he remembered nothing at all past that point.

If Dimitri had freed himself, there was no telling what he had done to Claude. Byleth remembered the sight from the first failed attempt all too well, and he also knew that Dimitri, by contrast, would have no memory of it. In the state the prince was in, he could easily have repeated that same mistake.

But then, where was he?

Perhaps he had fled, out of grief and shame. Taken Claude’s body, and fled--

“Professor?”

Leonie’s voice jolted Byleth back to reality. He turned around, staring at her while briefly lost for words.

“Are you all right? You seem to have hit your head pretty hard.” Byleth could tell by her worried expression that that comment was sincere, not poking fun at him. “If you’re looking for Claude, he went back and joined the others a while ago. And apparently, he brought Dimitri back with him, too. He’s taking him back to camp--”

Byleth did a double take. He had to have misheard that.

“What?” he said. “Claude… and Dimitri… are alive?”

Leonie’s eyes clouded over with confusion.

“Uh… yeah?” she said. “They’re fine. Well, Dimitri’s not in great shape, but Marianne said--”

“Alright. We need to catch up to them.”

Byleth reached down and picked up Dimitri’s lance, only just now noticing that there was no blood on it. Holding the lance in one hand, he wandered over to where his sword lay and picked that up as well, retracting it so that he could properly sheathe it.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

He thought he had failed, but if what Leonie was saying was true, then maybe his efforts had not been in vain after all. He would know for sure once he got back to camp.

Leonie still looked confused, but nevertheless went back to her horse and climbed back into the saddle. Byleth found his own horse waiting nearby, and he gingerly climbed his way back into the saddle as well. Gripping the reins tightly in one hand – he still held Dimitri’s lance in the other – he then took an extra two seconds to make sure his feet were secure in the stirrups before moving. He waited until Leonie took off first, then followed her.

As they rode, Byleth quickly lost track of time. His head still throbbed in the area where it had been struck. Dizziness and confusion came in waves, forcing him to take a slower pace than he would have liked. Mercifully, these waves grew weaker and less frequent over time. He knew he had his Crest to thank for that; anyone else would probably still be struggling to walk upright.

The last wave of dizziness subsided at the same time he and Leonie rode into the Alliance army camp. He hardly needed Leonie’s encouragement – Byleth dismounted and headed straight for the healers’ tent. Not for himself, though. Thanks to his Crest, he did not need any treatment.

He was looking for Claude and Dimitri.

He pushed the tent flaps aside and walked in.

It took all of two seconds to find them. They were in the far corner, with Dimitri lying on one of the cots, and Claude sitting on the edge of the cot adjacent to him. He sat with his back turned to the tent entrance, but Byleth recognized the crimson collar of Claude’s Barbarossa uniform, as well as the golden Crest of Riegan adorning the quiver on his back.

Byleth began to head to that far corner. He stopped just behind Claude. Before he could say anything, Claude turned his head, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey, Teach,” he said.

There was no smile, not even one of his fake ones. On the other hand, he did not look upset either. He simply looked… tired.

Byleth glanced down, noticing Claude’s bare hands. While his right hand rested idly on his leg, his left was firmly clasped around Dimitri’s hand. Byleth’s gaze traveled over Dimitri’s hand and arm to the rest of his body, inspecting the fresh bandaging over his wounds. They were stained with blood, but not as heavily as he expected. And seeing the steady motion of Dimitri’s breath, Byleth could tell he was sleeping peacefully. 

A stark contrast to the Dimitri he remembered seeing on the battlefield just minutes ago. Or perhaps hours… Byleth had no idea how long he’d been out.

“He’ll be fine,” Claude said, pulling Byleth out of his reverie. “Between the magic and the medicine, though, he probably won’t be up for a while.”

Yet, knowing that, Claude continued to hold Dimitri’s hand firmly in his own. A faint smile teased at Byleth’s lips.

Claude, holding vigil by Dimitri’s side, so that his would be the first face Dimitri would see upon awakening.

It was not without risk, Byleth knew – but he also knew it was their best bet.

“That’s good…”

Relief washed over him. And suddenly he realized how tired he really was. He had woken up less than an hour ago, but already his body cried out for rest. The battle, and all that divine power he’d used had taken more of a toll than he thought. But that mattered little to him. It had all been worth it.

For the first time in five years, he truly felt like he had accomplished something meaningful with Sothis’ power. He had undone multiple failures. He had undone fate itself… more than Sothis herself had ever said was possible.

He would have let out a shout of triumph were it not for the fact that he could barely keep standing upright. Instead, he sat down next to Claude on the cot.

“Do you mind if I…” he began.

Before Claude could respond, Byleth collapsed the rest of the way on the cot, falling asleep with his legs over the side, feet still on the floor.

Claude stared at the sleeping Byleth in bemusement. This was the second time his professor had abruptly passed out in front of him like that. As he recalled the circumstances of the first time, however, Claude’s smile faded a bit. Last time, it was a side effect from the goddess’ power – according to Byleth, but Claude had been willing to believe it. It seemed unlikely for anything similar to have happened this time, since Byleth had also made it clear that the goddess had vanished afterward.

The only other explanation was that he was merely exhausted from the battle, but somehow that made less sense. They had fought together in longer, more intense battles than this. Claude knew Byleth had impressive stamina, even for a seasoned warrior.

When nothing else came to him, Claude shook his head and gave up. Whatever the true explanation was, he would have to wait to figure that out some other time.

For now, he had other things to worry about.

Not the Imperial or Kingdom armies; the former had retreated, and the latter had laid down arms and surrendered. Not his own army, either, since they had suffered surprisingly few casualties and would be ready to march again by dawn tomorrow.

Claude turned his gaze back to Dimitri.

He moved his right hand over his left, now holding Dimitri’s hand in both of his own. He spent the next minute silent and still, feeling the warmth of Dimitri’s hand. Watching his chest steadily rise and fall. A smile tugged at his lips, but not the bemused one from earlier.

After five long years without him… five years of believing his beloved was lost… he finally had Dimitri back. Truly a miracle if he had ever seen one.

Yet Claude knew things would not be the same. Something terrible had happened to Dimitri, had changed him almost beyond recognition. It would be a long and hard road, and even if Dimitri could heal from the past five years, they could never go back to how it was before.

Still…

Claude leaned forward. He brought his right hand up, brushing aside a lock of Dimitri’s hair and planting a kiss on his forehead.

As he leaned back, he felt Dimitri squeeze his other hand. A second later, Dimitri’s eye fluttered open.

“Claude…?”


End file.
